


Unmoved

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5918956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter thinks of guilt and of godparents, somewhere, in an alternate universe far away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unmoved

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

The Lord of the Rings is a great literary work, cult book of the sixties and seventies. I even have access to an annotated edition: the first paperbacks, joint property of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.

"I don't think this ring thing could be done", one of the commentators has written - a meticulous, backwards-slanting hand that isn't Remus's even, scholarly script. Another hand that writes bold, round letters: "Could too. Bet you five Galleons that Evans could do it". Then Sirius's compact, untidy scrawl: "Why bother with it, Jim, isn't the Cloak good enough for you?" And my father's hand again: "You should know, you and Remus are using it all the time..."

Thank you, Dad. Now I have to think about my godparents snogging every time I want to use the Invisibility Cloak. I can't concentrate anyway. Who'd be able to concentrate on a book when one of their mates has been killed?

My scar could have had the decency to hurt, but no. It was almost as if the Death Eaters killed Seamus and his family just for a lark, while I was stuck at Privet Drive, totally unaware until I saw The Daily Prophet. He never got the chance to come to the first birthday party I've had since I was one year old.

It wasn't much of a party, to be honest. Almost all of us were crying or wanted to at some point. Fred and George and Lee didn't crack a single joke. Ron and Hermione were holding hands almost compulsively. None of us dared to really talk with Dean - Remus and Sirius don't count since they're grown-ups. I can easily imagine Mad-Eye Moody muttering that we don't get the kind of Gryffindors we used to get in the good old days.

I can't stop thinking about who will be next to die. There are no tears anymore, just an empty, gnawing feeling left in my stomach. Voldemort is going to pick them off, one by one, now that everyone knows of his return. Everything was my fault.

The traitor was among the captured and Sirius was cleared, but I wasn't as happy about it as I thought I would be. How could I be when Sirius and Remus almost died to keep me safe in the Department of Mysteries? I'd sooner die myself than see anybody that close to death again - Sirius struck by a Dark curse that stopped his heart, Remus comatose from a deep burn caused by Wormtail's silver hand. Because of a mistake that **I** had made.

I can't even feel good about Dumbledore graciously granting me three weeks with my godparents in a farmhouse in the Shropshire hills because I haven't done anything to deserve it. Quite the opposite. Every day feels like borrowed time.

I don't deserve to have seriously cool godparents. Remus saved my life with the Patronus Charm, he's been almost everywhere in the world and has heaps of stories to tell about Dark creatures. He doesn't quite get the joke when I call him Dr. Jones. He has this quirky, laconic sense of humour and unconsciously raises an eyebrow in disapproval when Sirius rolls himself a cigarette, he's able to recite poetry and not sound corny. He makes the best hot chocolate in the world. And I have to stay calm, collected, unmoved.

I need to stay unmoved when being with Sirius makes me realise that it's all right to love The Doors and Deep Purple and wear jeans and black t-shirts even if you grow up. He teaches me those cool things that the Dursleys never bothered to teach me, how to ride a bike, how to build kites and how to do flip turns in the swimming pool. He let me taste his bitter when we went out for curry and allows me to help out when he's tinkering with the Black Shadow. He gives great backrubs and is easily provoked into mock fights, usually ending with him pinning me down and tickling the hell out of me, but I have to stay unmoved.

So help me God, I really need to stay unmoved when they steal a peck and a quick touch in Safeway's, thinking I'm not looking. I catch them snogging and hear Remus make this low sexy growl that goes straight into my cock. While they're playing chess together, Remus suddenly jumps and I just **know** that Sirius is distracting him with his foot in a very special place. I listen at their door on the way to the bathroom during the night, there is dead silence from inside and I can tell they're shagging under the protection of a Silencing Charm.

When we weren't thinking about Seamus during my belated birthday party, Parvati and Lavender were mooning and blushing. Can you believe they thought my godfathers looked cute together? I tried to roll my eyes just like Ron and the other blokes did, but I'm not sure if it worked. Either Fudge was right and the curse scar has made me batty, or I'm a complete pervert. Normal boys don't consider their guardians sexy and imagine them in bed together, do they?

So I have to stay unmoved, but what I really do is lock myself inside my room and wank off until I'm sore. Of course I know which body parts go where, but I wonder a lot about what else they do. Who is on top tonight? What are they doing as foreplay? Which positions do they like best? Which of them comes first?

Even worse. I want to be there.

Shite, I'm hard again. Small wonder, but bad nonetheless - Sirius is in the kitchen, washing up after our late lunch, six yards from where I'm sitting in the garden. I force myself to think about Crabbe and Goyle taking a shower together, curl up and read a bit further.

Books never interested me before, but since Seamus died two weeks ago I can't get enough of them. Science fiction, fantasy, whodunits, anything that keeps me from thinking of my guilt and my emotions. Music's good but it's too close to the full moon - Remus can't stand loud noises now, even the bats navigating around the house gives him headaches. So I reckoned I could risk a quick bike trip to the closest town library the day before yesterday, I was out of fiction and I needed to get out anyway. It wasn't as if I was gone for long, either, but apparently it was long enough.

I'm grateful we got Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt out of the house before Sirius lost his temper. No need to let everybody know that The Boy Who Lived had behaved like an idiot again. I know I should have asked permission and that I'd acted like an irresponsible child. He didn't need to shout.

And still he spent most of yesterday in London, sorting through all the school stuff that had belonged to him, Remus and my parents - old school robes and vinyl records and whatnot - and came back with an armful of paperbacks he thought I might like. Honestly, I don't think I'll ever understand my godfather. You'd think he was the one who'd acted like a prick, not I.

Read, Potter, I tell myself. Try to concentrate on Bilbo Baggins' birthday party instead of your own. Or take a few deep breaths, go into the kitchen and learn to act normally around Sirius again.

Or maybe not. Remus just entered from the living room. I manage a nonchalant wave, then I look in the other direction. I don't need to see Remus' hands on Sirius' hips or Sirius turning his head for a kiss. Don't need more stuff to feed my dirty fantasies.

They are quite likely to be upset about what I need right now, too, but I might as well get hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. I leave the book on the garden bench and quietly enter the hall through the front door. The voices in the kitchen are muted now, and I only pay enough attention to make sure that they stay where they are while I frisk Sirius' leather jacket for the pack of Players I know to be there. It's not as if I enjoy the things anyway, but the nicotine somehow dulls the emptiness. Helps me stay calm on the outside. Unmoved.


End file.
